


something almost kind

by riverbed



Series: somethings [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crying, Dirty Talk, Edging, Fisting, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Sex Toys, Teasing, Top Drop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:06:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6814636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverbed/pseuds/riverbed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When I’m tense I like it. Helps me focus, grounds me. Give me rules, structure  - a timeline. I can come at this time on this day but not before. Or don’t, I don’t care - tell me I’ll come when you feel like it."</p><p>Finally he stops short, looks Thomas dead in the eye. “Work me up for a couple nights and let me beg and cry and scream at you, but don’t let me come.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“What’s this?” Thomas asks, fiddling with the ribbon on the box. It’s black velvet and he lets it catch against the grain on his fingers.

“Something Eliza does to get me under control,” Hamilton says, shyly hiding his face. “You said no hitting, so. This is the other option.” Thomas coaxes him back, but Alexander drops his gaze to the box, watches his fingers and licks his lips. Thomas lets him. He tugs the loose end of the bow and lets the ribbon fall, pops the top off. It’s actually two items, packaged prettily as a set, with a cute pink sample-size bottle of lube; a plug with an extended base and a nice curved bulb, fairly anatomically obvious, and a black bolo-style cock ring, both in coordinating matte black silicone. He removes the plug from its inset and underneath it finds a tiny spherical remote, which rests ergonomically in his palm as he fiddles with the buttons.

Alexander watches him with his lips pursed. Jefferson knits his brow at him, leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “If this is going to work,” he tells Alexander, stroking his cheek, “you’re gonna have to tell me what it is you want.”

Hamilton brushes bright red at that - Thomas has come to understand that when his dick is hard, the fantasies flow easily from his mouth, but it’s hard for him in these quiet moments, when these talks should really take place. He’s determined to get Alexander comfortable enough to tell him what he needs and desires, what he expects from this arrangement of theirs.

Alexander gets up, paces across the room. “Just - don’t let me come,” he says, scrubbing a hand down his face. “When I’m tense I like it. Helps me focus, grounds me. Give me rules, structure - a timeline. I can come at this time on this day but not before. Or don’t, I don’t care - tell me I’ll come when you feel like it.” He’s trying to rush it out, and Thomas looks at him, pained, wishing he could hold him down, hold him still, but knowing he has to move to get the words out. Finally he stops short, looks Thomas dead in the eye. “Work me up for a couple nights and let me beg and cry and scream at you, but don’t let me come.”

That’s Saturday. On Sunday Philip, Hamilton’s oldest, has a baseball game, and he and Eliza spend the day with their kids. Jefferson is happy to have the day to himself for some reading, and Hamilton texts him a photo of him and his kids in a booth at Red Robin. The children look elated, and so does Alexander - Jefferson smiles, happy for him. He reflects on how friendly their exchanges have become.

On Monday Hamilton catches a ride with him back to his place, and he bends him over the kitchen table, licks him open and works the toy, slick with the lube that came in the set, into his ass. He makes him lie there with his cheek pressed to the table as he experiments with the settings, watching Alexander’s spine tense and his shoulders flex as he speeds up or changes to a differently-oscillating pattern.

Tuesday it’s on his back on the bed, and he doesn’t put the ring on because Hamilton insists that he can deny himself. He plants his feet defiantly wide apart and rides the toy’s lowest setting for a good while, sloppily licking at Jefferson’s dick as he kneels up next to him. His hips only jerk rarely, and when he says it’s too much Jefferson shuts the vibrator off and lets him collect himself before putting him through round two.

He fucks him on Wednesday, unable to deny himself much longer. They decide they don’t really like the prepackaged lube - it’s too thin - so they go back to their standby, messy and so good. Hamilton’s ass is tight as hell, the muscles having worked so hard over the past two days. He bends him over and holds his wrists behind his back, cock ring tightened around his balls as well. It’s nice; it’s versatile. Thomas finds he likes the way Hamilton’s body goes rigid when he tightens it a notch or two, touch dangerously close. He doesn’t go easy while he fucks him, grunting as he hammers home. Hamilton’s stubbornly silent.

Thursday he puts the plug in him, pulls his slacks back up over it, and makes Alexander do some chores, some busy work. When Hamilton slacks off at the dishes he puts it on the highest setting, watching the smaller man rut against the cupboard. He throws his head back and looks at Thomas imploringly, but Thomas shuts the vibe off and shakes his head, coming over to yank his hips away from the counter. “Back to work,” he tells him.

Every night before they start he asks if it’s too much, if he needs to be done, but every night Alexander tells him no, absolutely not. He lets Thomas do what he wants with him and then he goes home. Eliza texts him every morning saying how sweet he’s been, how docile - and at work, when they cross paths, Thomas notices how hyperfocused Hamilton is, how on. He doesn’t understand it but it certainly seems to be beneficial, and he’s glad to help.

Friday night has been pre-planned. He makes Hamilton dinner, kisses him soundly into the mattress. Works his clothes off slow and gentle in between taking off his own. Hamilton lets him lead, lets him direct him to get on all fours. He sticks his ass out in Jefferson’s face, a little show of power. Jefferson smacks his hip lightly in warning, and Alexander suspends his disbelief enough to shiver. They both know he won’t hit him, but it’s better this way, anyway - they’ve found something effective, something Thomas won’t freak out over and something that’s their own. Eliza says she doesn’t do this much, only a couple hours at a time before she gives in and lets Alex have what he wants. Thomas is more shrewd, much less giving, so he’s perfect for the job, she praises.

Alexander blows his hair out of his face. Thomas reaches up and grasps it, gently tugs his head back so he’s face-forward toward the wall. “Beautiful,” he compliments, and Hamilton rolls his shoulders back, straightening his spine a little. He loves praise as much as he loves belittling, that Thomas had discovered very early on.

He runs a wet finger around Alexander’s puckered opening, savors the way he flutters under the touch. “You’ve been so good this week, Alexander,” he tells him, and Alexander purrs. He arches his back and Thomas’ finger naturally dips in to the first knuckle at his movement, a very easy breach. Thomas pumps it in and out of him a few times before adding a second finger, and Hamilton drops down on his elbows, pressing his cheek to the bedspread. Thomas recalls that first time they’d fucked, Hamilton strung out beneath him in a similar position, collapsed against his comforter. He runs a hand fondly over the curve of Alexander’s ass. “You’re perfect like this, you know,” he tells him, spreading his fingers ever so slightly, relishing the way Hamilton gasps. “All submissive and open for me. You’re very pretty when you give up that pride of yours. When you’re sweet.” Alexander moans his agreement and tilts his body back into Jefferson, deepening the dip of his back. Jefferson obliges him, adding a third finger.

He gets a fourth worked pretty far into him before Hamilton starts to pant and squirm, and Thomas pulls back, picks up the vibrator he’d left on the charger all day. “You ready?” he asks, and Alexander sighs happily in response, sounding relieved. Thomas lines the bulb up with his hole, sinks it in without much warning. He catches Alexander’s flicker of a smile as his eyes fall shut. “Gorgeous,” he says breathlessly as Alexander’s hole swallows it, and he pushes it in and gets it firmly hooked against his prostate.

Alexander hums when he gets the thing started on a middle setting, but he holds his position, knees apart. Thomas observes his half-hard cock and fetches the ring, adjusts it nice and tight around his base. Hamilton mewls as he strokes him a few times over the ring to get him fully erect. “There we go,” he says, patting Hamilton’s bottom assuasively. “You comfy?” he asks, and Hamilton nods, smiles wider as he sinks down to the mattress.

“Don’t you dare try to move,” Jefferson tells him, even though he knows he won’t. He rolls Hamilton over and gets him tied up fairly easily in his pliant state, wrists cuffed to the headboard and thighs trussed bent to his hips in a half-hogtie on his back. It leaves him open, cock at attention against his belly and with the base of the vibrator pressed hard into his perineum, and Hamilton whines, shimmies his hips a little to try to adjust the pressure. Thomas snickers at him, circling the bed to admire his handiwork. “I think I’ll leave you ungagged,” he muses. “I do so like to hear you beg.” He tickles the arches of Hamilton’s feet playfully, and Alexander tries to roll away but has nowhere to go. Jefferson moves on to tickling his sides, and he shrieks, laughing so hard there are tears in his eyes. He looks up at Thomas pleadingly and Thomas leans over to kiss him from his place between his spread legs. He can’t resist rolling his hips a few times as he does, leaving Hamilton gasping and breathless when he pulls away, and he grins fiendishly down at him.

“What’s the matter,” he says, backing up a ways to stroke himself up to hardness. “cat got your tongue, sweetheart? You’re usually so talkative, so demanding. You too far gone already?” It’s mean to taunt, but he can’t help it - Hamilton looks so lost, so completely broken open, his eyes wet, his lips swollen and parted, a deep flush on his chest and tummy.

He resettles over him, pressing cautiously forward on his knees, stretching his hamstrings a little further where they’re tied to his core. He runs his hand over the rope looped around Hamilton’s slender waist, slipping fingers between the silky braid and his skin. The contrast looks amazing and he lets himself enjoy it for a few moments since Hamilton’s not going anywhere; he lets himself study the olive undertones in Alexander’s skin, drinks him in while he’s immobilized, while he has no choice but to let him do so. Alexander twists as best he can under his stare, but Jefferson just smiles fondly at him and watches happily.

Finally he turns his attention to the settings on the vibrator, turning it up to its full intensity. Alexander lets out a low, broken moan and the tears trapped in his eyes begin to flow freely as he desperately tries to work his hips, his neglected cock straining and jumping as he finally finds a pattern to manipulate the situation for himself some, a slow rolling motion that no doubt only presses the end of the toy harder against his prostate as he circles. Jefferson grabs the vibe and fucks him with it, steals Alexander’s breath away as he pulls it out and drives it back home, letting him get filled again and again, never enough but feeling it all through him; he shakes and shakes, and then, finally, he’s begging, heart-wrenching, wordless whimpering interspersed with desperate, only barely-successful attempts at Thomas’ name and repetitions of the word please in about four languages.

“You want to come?” he asks Hamilton, who nods furiously. _Yes,_ he cries, _yes yes yes!_ Thomas squeezes the soft flesh of his ass with one hand while he releases some of the tension in the stretchy cock ring with the other, and he strokes Alexander with purpose a few times.

Alexander wails and rasps urgent, breathless _thank you_ s, rocks back and forth onto the plug where Thomas has left it pressed in, not all the way, but enough. He’s so close, so beautiful as he loses himself to pure sensation.

Thomas shuts the vibrator off at the same moment he draws his hand away from Alex’s cock, and Alex’s eyes shoot open wide, staring at him in confusion and ferocity. “T-thomas,” he pants, not managing to sound very threatening. “Kee- keep going.”

Jefferson shakes his head, his curls bouncing. “One more day, baby,” he says, running a soothing hand up Hamilton’s thigh. Hamilton groans loudly, throws his head back hard into the pillows. “You fucking… you _asshole.”_ He’s struggling to find the words that will convey his vehemence, and Jefferson laughs. “You _promised,”_ Alexander whines mournfully, even though Jefferson did no such thing.

“I think you need one more day,” Jefferson repeats with finality, already wiggling the now-still vibrator out of him. He carefully avoids brushing his balls, full and drawn up tight. Alexander makes a high-pitched sound of disappointment.

He gets some massage oil and runs his hands all over Alexander’s body to relax him, letting him pout all the way through even though his muscles visibly release tension, and when Jefferson decides he’s calmed down enough he tightens up the silicone tie around him again, Hamilton shivering under his palm where it’s pressed to his chest.

Hamilton lets himself be untied, rolled back over onto his front, massaged with Thomas’ strong hands digging into his muscles. Hamilton groans through a tight jaw as he works a particularly stubborn muscle in his thigh loose, and Thomas leans down, kisses the back of Alexander’s neck. Alexander’s frustrated noise turns into a light moan as Thomas nibbles at the skin between his shoulders, and he turns back over of his own accord and sits up to kiss him full on the lips. Jefferson is wary of touching him, worried about taking the teasing too far, but Alexander grabs his hands and puts them on his own waist, letting Thomas feel the imprints the braid of the rope has left. He rolls his hips against Thomas, apparently up for more. Jefferson growls and pushes him back down to the bed, hooks Hamilton’s legs over his shoulders and laps up the lube from Alexander’s worked-over hole, licks into him as he shudders violently and moans. He hums against Alexander and the younger man jolts, but then lays back in the bed, letting himself go slack and Thomas play with his body as he wishes.

He’s sobbing and soft by the time Jefferson kisses his way to his face, absolutely wrecked. Thomas skates his hand down his flank, rubs soothing circles on his hip, and adjusts so that he’s spooning Hamilton from behind, turned into his back. He holds him tightly for a few minutes, feeling his own erection flag in the strangeness of the moment. The air in the room is electric, live-wire, everything sharpened like knife’s edge. Hamilton’s body shakes as he cries against Thomas’ chest, all his built-up bravery and stubbornness from the last week finally coming loose, and Thomas brushes his damp hair back from his face and lets him cry. It’s an odd feeling, satisfying in a way. Knowing that Hamilton is cleaning his slate.

It’s odd to realize that he knows better than to worry he’d gone too far.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh there's feelings here now. oops

In the morning Jefferson wakes gradually as he always does, blinking up at his ceiling and slowly coming fully conscious. It takes him a moment to place the clanking coming from the kitchen - it takes some time to register that Hamilton had stayed the night, is presumably still here. Thomas grumbles and pulls the comforter up over his head and burrows down in the bed in protest.

He’s about 30 seconds away from falling back asleep when Hamilton bursts back in. He bounces onto the bed a moment later and says quietly, “Thomas?”

Thomas remains very still, though he doesn’t think Hamilton is under any illusions about him sleeping through the racket he’s been making. Alexander says his name again, this time while poking his stomach, and grumbles when it provokes no response. Hamilton can’t see him, so he allows himself a smile.

Hamilton sits still for a moment before Thomas feels his weight shift on the bed, and then he hears Alexander hum in contentment as warmth is pressed against his crotch through the covers. Jefferson opens his mouth in surprise but manages to suppress an audible gasp. Hamilton is mouthing at him through the blanket, pure pressure without the interference of heat or moisture, and he feels the slightest bit of shame at hardening so fast at the sensation before he gives himself over to it. He feigns sleep for only a few more moments before he tosses the covers away from his face and props himself up on his elbows to gaze down at Hamilton, who seems to be totally enthralled with his task - he doesn’t even open his eyes to acknowledge him, just keeps pressing little kisses up and down his hardening shaft. The sheet drags rough over the head of Thomas’ cock, and he reaches down to place a hand in Hamilton’s damp hair - he’d made use of the shower, Thomas notes, as he ruffles the locks at his crown. Hamilton hums and noses against him, presses his face up against Thomas’ hip and breathes in deeply. He rests there for a moment, breathing soft and even. Thomas is loathe to disturb him but Hamilton eventually raises his head, looks up at Jefferson as he strokes his hand through his hair, a little grin playing at his lips.

“I made you tea,” Hamilton says, and he’s entirely too cheerful for such an early hour on a Saturday. Jefferson groans mournfully at the shot through their reverie but sits up and accepts the tea from Hamilton, whom he knows to carry teabags in his bag at all times. He himself prefers coffee. The tea tastes of chamomile and hibiscus and warms him from throat down, and he lets it relax him, settling back against the pillow as Alexander sets down his own mug and climbs up the bed to kiss him. Alexander’s tea had been black - Thomas registers vaguely that he’d made them different varieties as he tastes him. There’s no patience to the kiss, no hesitance, all heady expectation, and Jefferson wraps his arm around his little waist and pulls him flat over him, feeling Alexander’s smaller body flush against his. Jefferson rolls his hips, and Alexander bites at his lip, more unintentional than anything else. Thomas growls.

“You got something on your mind, sweet thing?” he asks, and Alexander moans a little, drops his head down and bites his shoulder as he ruts against him. Jefferson can feel how hard he is through the boxers he’s taken the liberty of borrowing, so on edge. Thomas reaches up above the covers and pulls the waistband loose where it’s been tied with a hair elastic to keep it from slipping down, slides his hand under it to grab a handful of ass, curling his fingers into the cleft and pressing one gently against his hole. Alexander starts, presses back against him with a whine.

Thomas chuckles. He presses a kiss above Alexander’s ear and then says, without a hint of negotiation in his voice, “Get back down there and back to work, love.” He punctuates it by squeezing the flesh of his ass hard.

Alexander mewls and reluctantly shimmies down Jefferson’s body, pulling the blankets down with him. Thomas shivers slightly as he’s exposed to cool air, but then Hamilton wraps his lips around his cock and swallows him down eagerly, and the wet heat is exquisite - he plays with Alexander’s hair to keep from fucking up into his mouth, but he does talk to him, murmuring endearments when he takes him to the back of his throat. One of Hamilton’s hands is wrapped tight around his hip and the other’s around the base of him while he works his tongue firm across the head and across his slit, lapping at him with his eyes half-lidded. Jefferson moans, throws his head back against his pillows.

He grips Alexander’s hair harder, and Alexander pauses in his ministrations, looking positively lewd as he stares up at him with his tongue pressed hard to his swollen cock. “Stay right there,” Jefferson orders, and replaces Hamilton’s hand with his own, smacking his dick against the flat of Alexander’s tongue a few times and growling as he works himself to the edge. He spurts onto Alexander’s tongue and on his cheek and watches his come drip off his lips. Hamilton doesn’t lick it away - he ducks down lower and lifts Thomas’ balls, licks his way in without much ado. Jefferson shudders at the knowledge that the slickness is not only Hamilton’s saliva but his own spunk mixed with, and he marvels at Hamilton’s boldness. He has never loved being penetrated, but Hamilton seems to delight in the service, moaning loudly, totally focused. He keeps his hands on Thomas’ belly, nails digging slightly in, sort of absently pawing at him in pleasure, like a cat. Thomas lets himself enjoy the feeling because it feels good, oh-so-good, his body calm and open post-orgasm and Hamilton so happy to taste him like this.

Hamilton brings him off once more, very slow, patient until his cock is once again ready to respond and then using his hand on him in perfect answer to his tongue, laving eventually up and over his balls before dipping into him again, and Thomas feels his cock spasm weakly, his entire body tensing and releasing till he’s sated, limbs heavy, breath labored. Hamilton pulls off of him slowly, one hand still at rest on his abdomen, and licks his lips. 

“You’re disgusting,” Jefferson tells him when he gets his bearings, and Hamilton smiles sweetly. He sits up, on his knees. “I’ll just hop in the shower again,” he says brightly. “Perfect water pressure. And the heated floors are a nice touch.”

Jefferson chuckles darkly before sitting up to cup his jaw. “You’re not getting out of this bed today,” he promises. Alexander sighs and yields to his kiss.

*

Somehow, even with it being the main source of his day-to-day professional microaggressions, Jefferson is always shocked at the mouth Alexander’s got on him.

Now, laid out on the bed with his legs parted, he rubs his cheek on the blanket to distract himself and moans but soon regains his eloquence. “C’mon, fuck, fuck fuck me,” he chants even as the toy does, his hips making aborted little movements toward the bed as he remembers himself, and then he mewls, unhappy at the new realization that he’ll get none of the stimulation he craves. This pattern is admittedly excruciatingly hot to watch, and if Thomas draws it out a little longer than he’d previously assumed was necessary, he doesn’t think he should be blamed.

Alexander slumps back woefully to the bed as Thomas ratchets the vibrator back down, slowing his climb. His back is shining with sweat, his hands clenching and unclenching around the sheet he’s laid out on. He keeps the motion of his hips obediently minimal, as best as he absolutely can - Thomas can see the strain of effort in the tension in the muscles of his thighs.

Thomas climbs onto the bed behind him and between his legs, kneading the backs of his legs with his knuckles. Hamilton moans loud and wriggles his hips back and forth, trying to catch some friction on the bedsheet. Jefferson chuckles and wraps his own legs around Alexander’s, effectively pinning him in place. He leans over, nips his earlobe. “You want a little more?” he asks, feeling reckless, feeling raw. Alexander nods, his eyes squeezed shut tight.

Jefferson hums and swoops his hand down Alex’s back, turns his attention to the base of the plug between his cheeks. He presses a finger against the flat base and uses the pressure to wiggle it, laughing when Alexander pines and shifts. He lets him try to find the pressure direct against his prostate for a minute before he’s pulling the toy out of him, letting him feel the drag of every inch of the smooth silicone. Open around its widest part, Alexander whines through gritted teeth - Thomas holds him down with a hand on the small of his back as he keeps the vibe’s last inch just inside him, working it back and forth to get him good and open.

He pulls it out of him and admires for a moment the way his body gapes around it, then he gets Alex up on his hands and knees, thighs quivering as he struggles to hold himself up. Hamilton doesn’t even try to look back at him over his shoulder, too far gone to observe quizzically like he usually does.

Thomas sinks three fingers into him right away, guessing at their girth in relation to the vibrator’s. It stretches Alexander only slightly, after the way his body’s been loosened under the onslaught of the toy. Thomas lets Hamilton’s body tense and relax around him before he puts a fourth finger in alongside the others, and then Hamilton does snap his head around to eye him warily, but his cock hasn’t flagged in the least. He’s alert, ready - Thomas does nothing but scissor his fingers for a good long while, reminding himself to be patient, not to push. Hamilton slowly sinks to his elbows, resting his head on his forearms. Ass up, inviting. Jefferson doesn’t stop, stretching him, slow, slow. Soon enough Alexander’s rocking back to him, lips moving in a silent, constant _more, more._

Jefferson obliges him cautiously, free hand on his hip to keep him still. He adjusts him to the best angle he can, coaxes his back to arch a little further. Alexander sighs and the sound is surprisingly relaxed; Thomas tries to bite back a moan of his own at the thought of him _enjoying_ this so much, but it still slips out, and Hamilton echoes him, body going tight suddenly as Thomas presses up into his prostate.

“Oh, my god,” Hamilton groans as Thomas very carefully slides his thumb in, watching Alex’s face for signs of distress. He actually looks ecstatic, his eyes closed and mouth open, like the pleasure has taken his brain completely offline. Thomas feels pride swell in his chest at this.

“ _Oh_ my god,” Hamilton repeats, testing the effect of shifting his hips. “Oh my _god.”_ Thomas chuckles in spite of himself, shaking his head fondly. He watches Alexander’s body accept him to the wrist, fascinated. His own cock is so far away to him right now that he couldn’t think of touching even if he actually wanted to focus on anything else, but he’s suddenly overcome with the guilt he’s ignored over the past week, not letting Alexander come. He wants to take him apart all the way, wants to piece him painstakingly back together again so he can get at all his tiny moving parts, learn the absolute depths of what makes him tick. He reaches around to palm at his cock, but Alexander shrinks from from his hand, arcs his hips away and that makes him sink further onto Thomas’ hand, and he yelps but then moans, the pressure surely becoming too much. He fights it down visibly before offering an explanation: “Just this,” he says, eyes squeezed tightly closed. “Just let me… let me…”

Again, the pride. Thomas feels warm all over just from rendering Alexander Hamilton speechless. He obliges him, holding still and letting Hamilton fuck back on his hand as he pleases - there’s not a lot of range of movement, being so full, but every minute adjustment seems to drive him further and further into frenzy.

“Come, baby,” Thomas says, in absolute awe. He rests his hand on Hamilton’s ass reverently, just a gentle presence. “Come for me, come on, Alexander, come, you can do it, you look so fucking gorgeous, come on, sweetheart, get yourself there for me. Can you do that, Alex? Can you come for me?”

Alexander tosses his head back and moans, almost indignant, as if Thomas is distracting him. But he tightens impossibly around Jefferson’s fist and shoots off with a breathless scream, without a single touch to his cock over the past week.

He’s panting and shaking when he comes down, and Jefferson can’t believe how beautiful he is - he’s taken by him and he never expected this. He’s frozen with the realization, and when Alexander starts to stir with discomfort he has to force himself to move, to start working his hand out of Hamilton. He puts a placating hand on his back to comfort him when he feels him clench around him, making the withdrawal more difficult. He goes slow with it, as slow as he had when he’d pushed in, trying all the while to plan out his breathing so he won’t freak Alex out, even as he privately panics.

Alexander rolls onto his back and covers his face with a pillow, probably just as a retreat, and Thomas gets off the bed, still in a kind of stupor, washes his hands and his face and gets one of his washcloths from the shower damp with warm water. He pads back to Alexander from the bathroom and gently wipes him down, feeling the shudder go through him as he presses the cloth to his belly. Alexander breathes loudly against the fabric of the pillowcase, and Thomas climbs back onto the bed next to him, still sort of terrified.

They’re quiet for a minute; Alexander doesn’t wiggle closer to him like he usually does, and Jefferson wants to respect his space but he admits to himself that he’s pining for closeness, for comfort. He’s disturbed by the intimacy of what they’ve just done and the depth of his newly discovered feelings, and he reaches out, just puts his fingers on Alexander’s upper arm, trails them lightly down to his elbow.

Alexander huffs, tosses the pillow up the bed. He opens one eye to look at Thomas curiously, probably startled by the gentle touch. He throws his other arm across his forehead, stays where he is but lets Thomas run his hand down his arm. He falls asleep eventually, lulled by the soft pattern of his hand, and Thomas curls into him, a few inches away but feeling his breath ghost across his neck. He studies the rhythm, learns it by heart. He plays it back like a song recorded in his mind and takes that piece of Alexander for himself, assuming he can spare it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [i listened to this while writing this chapter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgYsEN2lobg)


End file.
